


drop the game

by Ejunkiet



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Family Feels, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rio is a good dad but his sister questions his decision making, Season/Series 02, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-17 12:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/Ejunkiet
Summary: "The guy with the kid and the - " There's a rustle of fabric and a beat passes before she continues, her voice lowered to a hushed whisper,"neck tattoo.""Christopher, yeah. Apartment 3B.""Christopher."It settles in his gut, the way her lips curl around his name, and it's yet another shared intimacy between them, the lines between his personal and professional lives blurring together. He's usually smarter than this, good at keeping that shit separate.--Prompt fill for Chureezee: Rio catches Beth outside his apartment in the drop sheet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two-parter, as Chureezee requested, and I'm paraphrasing, that "sexytimes ensue". Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> The GG finale tomorrow is going to kill me. Expect part two before then.

He picks up on his tail as he crosses the lot in front of the bar. She's not exactly subtle - she's got the momma van, like she's looking to make an impression, and maybe she is.

This a new turn for her. Ballsy. He likes it, this side of her that's willing to take risks, even as he sits in his car for a moment and thinks about what this means.

She knew how to find him, but that ain't new. It's not a stretch for anyone who's watching that he can be found here once, maybe twice a week - he owns the place and he likes to check in on his investments. Elizabeth, though - she doesn't know that.

He thinks maybe she got lucky. They've shared a couple of drinks here - hell, they've shared more than that on the side - but they don't talk about his other businesses. He thinks there could be more to it than luck though, and that's what sticks with him: the idea that she knows him, that she _gets_ it.

He's not made a habit of being known.

He puts the car into drive and pulls away from the lot.

He keeps an eye on her as he makes his way through the streets of downtown, the way she leaves at least three car lengths between them, second guessing where he plans to go and changing lanes ahead of time. She's not doing anything other than follow him, and he figures that this is a recon mission. She wants something, and she wants it bad enough that she's willing to take a risk like this.

_What are you looking for, Elizabeth?_

He drums his fingers on the wheel, watching for her as he gets onto the highway, the flash of auburn in his rearview mirror. At the next junction, he needs to make a decision: whether to confront this head on, or to let it play out, see where it goes.

He chooses the latter.

Turning down the music in the car, he taps on his bluetooth earpiece and makes a call.

\--

The trail ends at his apartment.  

He leaves Marcus with his sister. She meets them a couple of blocks away from his place, and doesn't look twice at his car, doesn't ask why he drove the distance. She knows enough about what he does that she’s learned not to ask questions, but this doesn't mean he's got her approval.

He kisses her on the cheek after he's gotten Marcus settled in the backseat and she levels him with a long look, her eyes as hard as flint, lips pressed into a tight line.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

He bites his cheek and forces himself to nod, slouching back, his hands in his back pockets like he's fifteen again and she's caught him out back drinking. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"I do though," she replies, and then her eyes flicker back to the car, where Marcus sits in his little league gear, tossing a ball into his catcher's Mitt and the end of her statement is clear, even if she doesn't say it: _for his sake._

She leaves then, expression hard and immovable as she gets into the car, and she doesn't look back at him as she pulls away.

His grip is tight on the wheel as he makes his way back to the apartment, a muscle ticking in his jaw, a tension buzzing beneath his skin. It's as if there's half a dozen hornets trapped under the surface, and the feeling only increases when he pulls back into the lot and finds the mama van empty.

He glances to the front of the building and finds it clear too - and she's become a better liar if she's made it inside already.

He puts the car into park and follows her up.

\--

His apartment is on the south-facing side of the building, three floors up from the ground floor. He hears her as he leaves the stairwell and pushes through the door to the landing, her voice cutting cleanly through the air.

"The guy with the kid and the - " There's a rustle of fabric and a beat passes before she continues, her voice lowered to a hushed whisper, " _neck tattoo_."

"Christopher, yeah. Apartment 3B."

" _Christopher_."

It settles in his gut, the way her lips curl around his name, and it's yet another shared intimacy between them, the lines between his personal and professional lives blurring together.

He's usually smarter than this, good at keeping that shit separate, and he lengthens his stride, clearing the last of the distance between them as he rounds the corner and sees -

A pile of clothes, tucked neatly out of sight down the hall, and Elizabeth -

Dressed in a fuckin' _bedsheet_ , and maybe she brought it with her, maybe she got it from the paint cans lined up next to her clothes, but he can see her feet are bare against the carpet -

"Christopher?"

He blinks, tearing his gaze back up to where two sets of eyes - one shocked, the other distinctly amused - watch him from down the hall.

"Rebecca," he says, and something in his brain must short circuit as he doesn't continue and it takes him a moment to gather himself, take the last few steps down the hall to meet them.

Elizabeth has recovered by the time he's pulled up, a hand pressed against her chest as she pulls at the sheet, adjusting it around her shoulders. "You're back."

Her eyes flicker past him to where she'd left her clothes before moving back to him, and there's a flash of trepidation there, her nerves coming through before she smooths it away into a pleasant smile.

"Great timing," Rebecca cuts in then, and there's a wide smile on his neighbour's face as she glances between the two of them from her position by the door. "Your lady friend was just explaining how she got locked out of your apartment."

"I just slipped out to make a call, and the door closed behind me.”

Her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, but he can see the white of her knuckles where she grips the sheet, and while she's embarrassed, there's a fire in her eyes that dares him to object.

And, okay; he can play ball.

He steps in, nice and close, and gives her a slow once over, letting the side of his mouth tick into a smile. "You went out in just a sheet? You're gonna catch a cold, baby."

He places his hands on her bare shoulders, smoothing his palms along her heated skin. He keeps his touch light, but he can feel the tension there, the stiffness before she relaxes and looks up at him with a smile. It's sweet and he can almost believe it's genuine.

"I wasn't sure how long you'd be out."

She leans into him then, soft and pliant, and he loses his breath for a moment.

When he glances down to meet her gaze, her eyes are bright and determined. _You can't intimidate me_ , they say _._

 _That's not what this is,_ he doesn't say. Instead, he slides his hands down her back, finding the curve of her waist beneath the sheet.

He can feel it when she shivers, gooseflesh prickling at his palms. She shifts under his hand, turning to look at him, and he preempts the question in her eyes with one of his own.

"Planning on staying awhile?"

It's not really a request, and he rubs his thumb along the patch of skin at her waist, taking in the way her flush deepens as she bites her lip and glances away.

"I could be convinced."

"Mm," he hums, watching her reaction, and it wouldn't take much, he thinks. He leans in and presses his mouth to her throat, tasting the flush that's spread there. He can feel her sharp intake of breath, her hand raising to press against his chest, but she doesn't push him away.

A gentle cough interrupts them, a less than subtle reminder that they aren't alone.

Rebecca hovers in the doorway, eyes gleaming as she clears her throat and gestures back into her apartment. "I'll leave you guys to it."

The door clicks neatly behind her as she makes a hasty retreat. 

They look at each other then, before he reaches into his back pocket and takes out his keys.

"Shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You keep trying to play this like it's some kinda day job. Clock in, make a few pill runs, clock out. Like this isn't who you are, just what you do."
> 
> Her eyes flicker between his. She looks - she looks devastating, with cupid bow lips and those big doe eyes. It's only been a short time since he was in her bed and she was soft and sweet beneath him, and the memory sticks between his teeth, like an ache.
> 
> He reaches out to trace the curve of her cheek, tucking her hair back in a gesture that's almost become habit, and her eyes flicker shut.
> 
> "But that's not how this shit works. I ain't playing, ma."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, _many_ thanks to devilbunnyking for late night edits. This took too long to finish, and I blame the finale. 
> 
> Thank you for the response to this so far! Please let me know what you think in the comments!

He keeps a hand on her waist as they enter his apartment, the fabric warm underneath his palm, her heat burning through.

She pulls away from him once they're inside, restoring the distance between them. He lets her, leaning back on his heels as he looks her over, taking in the slope of her bare shoulders, the way her hair is loose, golden strands brushing against her throat.

She makes quite a picture, bare feet pale against the hardwood panelling, the white sheet spilling from her shoulders onto the floor like a deposed monarch, and shit, she'd always carried herself like a queen.

She swivels on her heel to face him, flush perched high on her cheekbones, bright and angry.

"You want to tell me what that was about?"

He's watching her mouth as she says it; it's red from where she's been biting it, and he can see the flush has spread down her neck as well, dipping beneath the sheet along the curve of her chest.

He lets his eyes linger there a moment, taking in the way the colour deepens, before he returns the question.

"You wanna tell me why you've been following me all day?"

Her eyes spark, mouth a tight line, and she adjusts her grip on the sheet.

"You knew." It's a statement, not something she wants answered, and she's angry, her eyes bright and burning with it. "Why didn't you stop me?"

He studies the way she looks at him, the way she's bristling, the tension back in her shoulders, like he's the one who did this, who brought her here.

But that's all on her.

He shrugs out of his jacket, placing it on a side table and puts his hat there too, taking his time with it. He should be angry - more than that, he should be _raging_ \- but he's had time to think about this, and really, who's hurting more here?

He takes her in, the dangerous glint in her eye - and yeah, it sure as hell ain't him.

He jerks his head towards the rest of his apartment and braces himself against a support column. "This is what you wanted, right?"

She doesn't move from her spot by the door. "Is this a game to you?"

He sets his jaw, feels the remnants of his anger stir in his gut like it's a live thing and shit, that's rich coming from her. "Why don't you tell me."

She's looking at him, eyes raking across him like he's something she can break apart, like he's something she can understand. She's in a vulnerable position, but he's the one under fire, and that won't stand, not when they're here, in his apartment, his kid's things in the room across the hall.

He pushes away from the wall to close the distance between them, stepping right up until he's in her space and she has to tilt her head back to look at him.

"See, the way I see it, you think you can just walk in and out of this as you please."

"I-"

He shakes his head and she bites her lip, hard.

"You keep trying to play this like it's some kinda day job. Clock in, make a few pill runs, clock out. Like this isn't who you are, just what you do."

Her eyes flicker between his. She looks - she looks devastating, with cupid bow lips and those big doe eyes. It's only been a short time since he was in her bed and she was soft and sweet beneath him, and the memory sticks between his teeth, like an ache.

He reaches out to trace the curve of her cheek, tucking her hair back in a gesture that's almost become habit, and her eyes flicker shut.

"But that's not how this shit works. I ain't playing, ma."

Something snaps in her then, her grip tightening on the sheet until her knuckles gleam white above the fabric.

"Bullshit," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes open again and they are like twin fires, brilliant and livid and wild. "You've been playing us since the start. This whole-- _thing_ has just been a game to you-"

She heaves a shuddering breath, and he's breathless too, angry - and shit, she must not have been paying attention.

"You really believe that, huh."

She holds his gaze, her eyes burning - and he wants to ask her to leave, then -- or fist his fingers in her hair and pull her closer, show her what she's missing, what's right in front of her--

Instead he bites his tongue and asks again, "what _are_ you doing here, Elizabeth?"

She hesitates. She hesitates, and her eyes flicker across his face, moving between his eyes, before settling on his mouth, and okay.

He closes the distance between them. He knits his fingers in her hair and crushes his mouth against hers, stealing the gasp that slips out as she falls back, and she's moving against him-

She kisses him like he's oxygen and she's drowning. Her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer like she had in her bedroom and he bites at her bottom lip, hard, as he's still pissed and she should know it.

He can feel the shudder of her breath against him, tastes a metallic tang where he splits her lip, but instead of pulling away, she curls into him, soft and pliable, and _shit_.

He licks into her mouth and feels her moan before she lets go of the sheet, pressing against him, hot and flushed and wanting. Her fingers pull at his shirt, tugging it out from his jeans until she can slide her palms beneath it, her nails scraping across his hip to drag him in closer.

He tugs at her bra straps, his mouth pressed to her throat as she reaches back to help him, arching into him as he bites a burning trail down her chest. He shoves his knee between her legs, pushing up until her heat is pressed against his thigh and he watches as her mouth falls open, head tilting back as she shudders against him.

_"Don't stop-"_

He pulls back to look at her then, at the mess he's making of her, her hair disheveled and skin flushed, the marks from his mouth dark on her throat and chest.

He could leave it like this. Step away and ask her to leave, hot and unsatisfied, just like she had done with him - and it would only be fair.

But then she's looking up at him, and she saying _"please,"_ her voice a broken whisper, and he bends.

He's always been soft with her.

\--

They end up curled around each other in the bed, sheets tangled at the foot of it, and it's a mistake, maybe, but this isn't the first time, and he'd bet money that it wouldn't be the last.

"So, you gonna tell me why you were here?'

She's soft again in his arms, her touch light as her fingertips splay across his chest, tracing the lines of some of his older scars, mementos from when he was young and stupid.

"No."

He thinks about that answer for a long moment, letting his fingers trail along her back. See, this isn't how he usually plays it. This thing he has with her, it's off-book, and in this business that's stupid. Dangerous.

He brushes away her hair until he can see her: the curve of her cheek, the curl of her eyelashes. She shivers, but doesn't turn to look at him and he lets out a soft laugh.

"So that's how it is, huh."

She moves away from him then, lifting her head from his chest and pulling out of the circle of his arms, and he lets her. He watches as she shifts to the edge of the bed and bends down to pick up her bra from the floor.

He doesn't look away as she reassembles herself, pulling himself up to lean against the headboard, and if it offers him a better view, he's not gonna complain.

"Gonna leave me high and dry again?"

He says it soft and low, watching her reaction. She's not facing him, but this isn't their first time together and he's had time to study her, learn the way she communicates without the use of words.

She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to.

He reaches over his side of the bed and lifts his shirt from the floor, tossing it her way. She catches it with one hand, the other caught on the button of her jeans, and she stares at him as he straightens out and nods toward the entrance of his apartment.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

There's a flash of something - hurt, he thinks - in her expression before she stands, pushing away from the bed. She ignores the shirt, picking up the sheets she'd been wearing when he'd walked up, wrapping it around her shoulders like a shroud. He can see the paint stains on it, the redness where the rough material chafes against her skin, but he doesn't say anything, and she doesn't look back.

Her feet are quiet on the hardwood as she pads over to the door, leaning up onto her toes to check the corridor through the peephole.

Then she's opening the door, and she's gone.

\--

Later, he sends her a text with the location of the next drop, and a time. She doesn't reply, and he doesn't press it; he knows that when he pulls up to the spot, she'll be there, waiting, just like she always is.

They're two of a kind, and she always comes back.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at my tumblr (ejunkiet)!


End file.
